Chapter 203

Isabella's blood boiled with fury.

Was that man still lurking outside? What game was he playing now?

Did he seriously think she'd fall for such a pathetic guilt trip?

She turned sharply, ready to storm back to her room—but froze mid-step.

Elmsworth's autumn nights were merciless, the chill biting deep.

Nathaniel had been standing out there for hours, clad in nothing but a thin suit. If he collapsed from hypothermia on her doorstep, she'd have to deal with the police. What a nightmare.

Gritting her teeth, she snatched her phone and dialed his number.

No answer. The line was dead.

Isabella's confusion morphed into irritation.

His little performance wasn't earning him sympathy—just her suspicion.

Grabbing the nearest umbrella, she marched outside.

When Nathaniel saw her approaching through the downpour, he wondered if exhaustion had conjured a mirage.

Only when she stood before him, her glare sharp enough to cut glass, did reality sink in. His chest warmed despite the cold.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" she snapped.

"Aren't you freezing dressed like that?" he countered, ignoring her question.

He moved to shrug off his jacket—then remembered it was drenched. His hands stilled awkwardly.

"Why is your phone off?"

"Dead battery."

His calm reply, paired with that infuriatingly obedient tone, made her scoff. He looked like a scolded husband—and worse, he seemed to enjoy it.

"So you planned to stand here all night unless I came out?"

"Yes. I needed to tell you something."

Isabella barked a laugh. "Nathaniel, you're the CEO of Vanderbilt Industries, not some lovesick teenager. Couldn't you think of a less cliché move?"

"Seeing you was worth it."

His voice was ice, but his eyes burned.

She exhaled sharply, her own clothes now damp under his searing gaze. Thank God for his military discipline—any lesser man might've crumbled.

"Trouble sleeping?"

"What?"

"You never used to wake at night. Slept like the dead."

Her fingers tightened around the umbrella handle.

During their sham marriage, they'd shared a bed for six months. He'd always faced away, an ocean between them.

She knew he was a light sleeper—but never imagined he'd paid her any attention.

"Just say what you came to say. I'm freezing."

"Let's talk in the car."

He took the umbrella, ushering her inside.

The interior smelled of rain and leather.

In the dim light, she noticed his lips trembling slightly, his fingers tinged blue.

Before she could react, he wrapped a blanket around her shoulders.

"I found who's been targeting you. Caroline Porter—Keith Porter's daughter. You know why she'd want revenge."

Isabella blinked. "You came here for that?"

"Partly." His voice was steady, but she caught the faintest tremor. "I needed to see you—to know you're alright."

She laughed, sharp and humorless. "You think some petty scandal could break me? The Sinclair heiress doesn't crumble that easily, Nathaniel. Don't insult me."

"Good." Relief flickered in his eyes.

"Why tell me this?"

She'd never guess the truth—that Nathaniel Kingsley had fallen for her.

After three years of her begging for his attention, only now did he notice her?

Absurd. No one was that oblivious.

"I owe you," he said quietly. "Our marriage was a farce. I failed you."

He searched for logic in his actions, but his chest ached like a knife twisted deeper with each word.

"Make it up to me? Fine."

Her gaze turned glacial. "Then promise me this: stay out of my life. Don't interfere. That's all I want."

Nathaniel's jaw clenched. The pain was visceral, like his heart might stop.

Isabella shoved the blanket back at him. "Save your guilt. If you'd said this was about screwing over Victoria, I might've listened longer."

Watching her vanish into the storm, Nathaniel felt hollow.

The downpour mirrored the emptiness inside.

Some foolish part of him had hoped—just maybe—she'd hesitate.

Now he understood.

This was how Isabella had felt for three years.

Back inside, she leaned against the door, steadying her breath.

The growl of an engine signaled his departure.

She moved to the window—then gasped as warm hands settled on her shoulders.

"Sebastian! You scared me." She forced a smile. "How do you move so quietly?"

"You were distracted."

Her brother sighed, pulling her into a side hug as they stared into the rain.

"Did he leave?"

"Sorry I woke you."

She rested her head on his shoulder. "Nathaniel came to tell me about Caroline."

"That's all?"

"That's all."

Silence stretched between them.

Finally, Sebastian squeezed her shoulder. "Hypothetically—if Nathaniel fell for you now, truly changed... would you give him another chance?"

His voice was gentle but probing. "He was your first love, after all."

"No."

The answer came instantly, bitter on her tongue.

"Sebastian, forgiveness isn't the issue. I'm just... tired. Tired of hoping, of waiting, of tying my happiness to a man who couldn't see me." She exhaled shakily. "I won't relive those years."

"You're right." He kissed her temple. "He doesn't deserve your 'what ifs.' Let him regret it forever."